


Just One Yesterday

by outlawofideal



Series: Roadtrip Lovers [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Depression, I wrote another sad story, M/M, Post Break Up, What a suprise, but i dont find it triggering for my self yet still beware of it, theres some nakedness in it but it's not sexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawofideal/pseuds/outlawofideal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If heaven's grief brings hell's rain<i></i></i>
  <br/>
  <i>Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday<i></i></i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Calum never turns the lights on anymore, so everything around him stays blurry but now it’s bright and clear.  Every goddamn memory surfaces back.<br/>He doesn’t want to remember, he really doesn’t.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my ex and from one of my dreams about her. Fuck you for making me feel this way.

                It is around midnight when he turns the key of his apartment and steps inside. The air inside feels heavy and makes it harder to breathe, probably because no one has come home during last week. The city lights shimmer through big windows, dimly lighting the open plan house.

He walks in the room, dropping his lyric-filled notes on the sad couch covered with blankets. It’s where Calum sleep if he ever comes home. It’s mostly for couple of hours anyways. His feet hurt and his back is sore already and being alone in this place drains him even more but he never can get himself to leave properly. _His ghost_ still haunts Calum down.

He rips his jacket off himself, trying to lessen the pain in his chest. This night is particularly worse. There’s full moon’s bright light sneaking through the glasses. Calum never turns the lights on anymore, so everything around him stays blurry but now it’s bright and clear.  Every goddamn memory surfaces back.

He doesn’t want to remember, he really doesn’t.

But _he_ is everywhere, _his laugh_ echoes through Calum's skin, _his smell_ creeps through their bedroom’s closed door. He still can see _him_ walking around the apartment. Sometimes he can’t even eat a proper thing in the kitchen because he remembers how _he_ would cook, ranting about how important it was to stay healthy. The worst part is he can remember every single detail about _his body._ His shining hazel eyes and bouncy curls, the nice curve of his nose and the sharpness of his chin… Where he likes to be kissed more, where is so ticklish that he can’ts stop laughing once he starts. And the musky smell of his skin is still there. How could he forget when _he_ is still a routine part of Calum’s life. He hadn’t had a chance.

They both couldn’t stop making musicwhen the four of them agreed on ending the band. They used the hungerfor music in Los Angeles, the reason they settled in the first place. And they never truly left even though it doesn’t feel like home anymore. To be honest, nowhere does to Calum for the past couple of months. So he is content with being in the same city with _him,_ watching _his_ impeccable drumming every now and then. He sleeps with _his_ memories and wakes up to _him_ , hates _him_ for being a great drummer.

He tries to pick up his pieces every night but most of the time he breaks even further. He walks around lifeless, living on quick meals and beer, somehow running away from him in the heart of their relationship.

He lets himself fall down on the couch, pressing his face further down to the pillow. The funny part is no one would believe Calum if he told them about his misery, he was never the one to show emotions. He sleeps regularly even though they are mostly torture; he tries to eat in every opportunity, so there are no dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks aren’t sunken in, his eyes don’t look dull.

He turns the TV on just because there’s some sound in the background so his thoughts stay controlled. He hates when they scream, it’s hard enough when they just exist, he doesn’t want them to take over his body. His eyelids start to feel heavy after a while of staring at the TV. The sleep comes like any other day, making his mind go fuzzy.

It’s all too bright all of a sudden with white tiles and big windows surrounding him, it feels ethereal and he is right there, in front of his eyes, sitting in the half full bathtub with a note sheet in his hands. His lips curve into an inviting smile, biting down his lips as he watches Calum. The brunet stands in the middle of the room naked, staring at the scene in front of him for a couple of seconds until it starts feel like a part of his life. Ashton’s waiting for him, looking all too beautiful, hurting Calum’s heart. It's a Saturday morning, no, no it must be Sunday. Sundays are their day offs so they spend them together just doing nothing and revising some work sheets. It must be it.

 Calum steps forward without being aware of what he is doing. He tests the water with his foot even though he knows Ashton already made it warm just like Calum likes. Ashton’s fingers tap a rhythm on the side of the tub, humming along to a song Calum never heard before while Calum sinks in the water. He settles in the spot between Ashton’s legs, resting his back against the older man’s chest and placing his hands on the older man’s thighs. It’s so peaceful and easy to be there. He feels like he can do this for the rest of his life. He belongs there.

He can see the contract papers he brought home yesterday lying next to the tub with two glasses of wine. Calum takes a short glance at them before leaning back and resting his head on Ashton’s shoulder. He loves how thoughtful his boyfriend is but he can work later now he just wants to be lost in the wonder he creates. It’s an ease for Ashton, creating new things even after writing thousands of songs. Calum’s watched it happen too many times but still fascinates him like the first time twelve years ago.

They stay silent for a while. Calum sips his glass of red wine feeling the beats of his boyfriend’s heart and fingers synching together. Then Ashton slowly kisses his temple, putting down the note paper in his hand. He slips his arm around Calum’s torso, pressing him to his body even further. “I don’t understand how you do it this often.” Calum mumbles making Ashton show of his hidden dimples.

“I have an amazing muse,” He leans forward to kiss Calum, his curls drop down on the younger boy’s face, tickling him softly. “It helps a lot…” Their breaths mix and Calum can feel the hand on his stomach sliding down.

It’s so nice, making his heart go crazy until Calum finds himself in the dark again. He is back in the living room, his phone is buzzing in his back pocket. When he tries to go back there’s just pure darkness eating him up. He tries to hold himself together, pressing his lips together, closing his fingers around the pillow but his sobs leave his body anyway. The tears roll down his cheeks, wetting his pillow.

The feeling is too familiar at this point; it scares the hell out of him. He’s losing it and there’s nothing he can do about it. He feels desperate. He stays silent, he stays in the darkness until his body gives up, too tired, too broken to move.

After a while he fishes his phone out of his pocket, hoping he would help him calm down faster and then he sees it, the notification on his lock screen, telling him there’s a message from _him._ He can’t breathe properly; the tears come back faster than before. He chokes, biting down on his hand and his eyes burn so bad when is looking at the bright screen.

**_I know we fucked it up but I need you back. Please let me see your face again._ **

It feels too late, it is too late but Calum’s love is so fucked he knows he’ll be down with anything if _he_ is the oneasking. And he knows sometimes love doesn’t work, it hurts more than it should and shatters you down to tiny pieces but if heaven’s grief brings hell’s rain back, then he’d trade all the tomorrows for just one yesterday he had spent with Ashton.


End file.
